


A Decided Lack of Self Control

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2019-10-29 13:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Wesley trains Spike in orgasm control with him protesting all the way.





	A Decided Lack of Self Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sueworld2003](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sueworld2003).



> Oh. Yes.
> 
> Spike/Wes, not worksafe, lots of mansex, cussing, and abuse of furniture.

Spike’s preternatural strength made it a bit challenging for Wes as he bucked and writhed under him, and it certainly made things challenging for the antique Chippendale desk Wesley kept in his apartment, but Wesley didn’t mind, though the air was as full of the creaks and groans of stressed woodwork as it was the filthy stream coming from Spike’s mouth. Wes rather enjoyed the challenge and the violence, ramming into the vampire with all his strength and digging his fingers in mercilessly to slim hips. He had to remind Spike who was on top, here. He pulled back just a bit to slap one of those delightful, hard and tight cheeks. Spike predictably bucked, nearly dislodging Wes, who punished him with a slam down against the desk. (Not that ‘punished’ was quite the right word by the way it made Spike moan and beg for more.)  
  
And then, unexpectedly, Spike stilled and fell over the desk like warm taffy. Wesley, quite irritated, had to lift him back to his preferred position.  
  
“Ow, fuck, Wes!”  
  
Wesley widened his stance to get back to lower himself to Spike’s obstinately flat position and slapped his flank. “We’re not done here.”  
  
Spike’s shoulders flexed liquidly. “Well, I am. So hurry up about it.”  
  
Wes had been close to completion, so he decided teaching Spike a lesson could wait just a few more minutes, but the images that leapt to his imagination as he thought about just how to go about giving that lesson sent a rush of lust through him and he finished up quickly enough, jamming hard, punishing strokes into the pliant, and now loudly complaining, vampire.  
  
Wesley pulled out and zipped up his fly, with all the composure one might expect after a business meeting, not having a violent shag. “You have no self-control,” he said.  
  
Spike rolled onto his back and smirked. “Don’t need any, do I?”  
  
Wesley gave him a withering look. “In point of fact, you do. I am not in the custom of finishing myself off after my partner gives up.”  
  
Spike chuckled. “Oh ho ho!” He set one foot flat on the desktop, reaching for his discarded coat on the chair behind him, and, presumably, his fags. He saucily wriggled his ass. “Have I been a bad boy, daddy?”  
  
Wesley quickly trapped Spike’s wrist against the chair-back, leaving him in an awkward, stretched-out position. “Do you find it amusing when I’m angry with you?”  
  
Spike pulled out of Wesley’s grip and dropped off of the desk with surprising grace. “Come on, Wes. You got your end away. What’s the big deal?” He bent over, searching the pockets of his duster, ass unashamedly in the air.  
  
Wesley let a moment pass before responding, calmly, “Next time, you will not come until I tell you to, or else I will place a hex on you.”  
  
Spike lit his cigarette, raised an eyebrow, and let smoke bathe his face. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you, Wes?”  
  
“I would. I have a chastity spell I’ve been meaning to try out.” Wes grinned slightly as Spike’s eyes widened at the word “chastity”.  
  
After a moment, Spike just rolled his eyes and sauntered over to where his jeans had fallen. “Thanks for the lovely shag.”  
  
“You aren’t taking me seriously, are you?”  
  
Spike wriggled into his tight jeans – which was always quite pleasant to watch, even when Wes was irritated with him. He shrugged, hands busy arranging things around his groin. “You’re always serious, Wes. So let me make this clear. I had a lovely time. Loved the commanding bit in your office, and the strip-tease in the copier room. That was all marvy. Love a bit of role-play, glad to drop to my knees if it gets us both off.” He snatched up his shirt and worked it over his forearms. “But I draw the line at actual obedience. I’m not your boy, Wes. And I never will be.” He drew the shirt over his head, pulled it down, and looked at Wesley expectantly.  
  
Deep in his heart, Wes felt a key turning, a decision being made and locked. He smiled. “We shall see.”  
  
Spike frowned at that, but continued getting dressed. Wes saw him out politely, as usual, and they even exchanged a quick kiss at the door.  
  
And then, Wes sat down and wrote out his plans.   
  
***  
  
Spike walked into Angel’s office to find him deep in conversation with Wes. A conversation that abruptly halted. There was an awkward pause, an unreadable expression on Angel’s face, and Wes excused himself.  
  
Spike held up one hand, “Don’t even start,” he said to Angel, and followed Wes out.  
  
“Oi! I’ve had about enough of this.”  
  
Wesley paused, but did not turn around. “From your tone of voice, I very much doubt it.”  
  
Spike hurried to cut Wes off. “People stop talking when I enter a room. People look at me funny. Harmony came right out and said you’d told her not to sleep with me or you’d make her hair turn green and fall out.”  
  
A tiny smile flitted across Wesley’s lips. “Different personalities require different incentives.”  
  
“You think you can just up and decide that you get me or no one does? I don’t have to be fishing in this tiny pond, mate. There’s an ocean of trim in L.A.”  
  
“I’m sure there is. But you won’t get any intimacy with anyone you care about until you agree to learn some self-control.” Wesley gave him a pitying look. “Is it really that far beyond your capability? Poor Drusilla.”  
  
Wesley met Spike’s aghast stare with a quiet smile.  
  
Spike forced his fist down. “You don’t talk about her.”  
  
“You seem mistakenly convinced you can dictate any terms at all to me. Continue to fight me on this, Spike, and I will continue to show you just how many ways I can take your choices away.”  
  
Spike’s shoulders dropped. “What the hell do you want, Wes?”  
  
“Simply for you to learn some self-control.”  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. “I can control myself. I just choose not to.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Doesn’t mean I can’t.”  
  
Wes stepped up close to him, chest brushing chest. “Prove it,” he said. His hand slipped into Spike’s belt before Spike knew it, and tugged him into Wesley’s office.  
  
Spike stumbled to a stop against the desk, and turned a leer on Wes. “You really do get off on this control, don’t you? All that repressed watcher upbringing?”  
  
“Yes,” Wes said, calmly locking the door. “Now strip.”  
  
Spike paused just a moment, one hand splayed on his stomach, long enough to smirk and let Wes think he wasn’t going to obey. And then he slowly pulled his shirt off.  
  
Spike came out from under his t-shirt to receive a sharp slap on the face. “This isn’t a show. Get those clothes off.”  
  
Spike grabbed Wes’s hand angrily, and was met with such a calm expression he knew a bluff had been called. He let go and tugged his jeans open with angry force. He kept his eyes on Wesley as he stripped.  
  
“Better,” Wes said. “Clear those papers off the desk – carefully – and lay down on your back.”  
  
“How long do you think I’m going to put up with this orders?” Spike asked, but he still cleared the desk, dropping Wesley’s papers on his chair.  
  
Wesley guided him down, hands roaming possessively over his chest, stomach, and then thighs, pushing them apart so he could step close between. Spike had to admit he liked the feel of Wesley’s rough tweed against his bare skin. “I think you’ll be surprised how much you’ll do,” Wes said. He turned his hands under Spike’s legs, caressing up to his ass, and then tugging him down to the edge of the desk. “There is one rule: don’t come until I tell you to. Manage to do this one simple thing, and the ‘game’, as you call it, will be at an end.”  
  
“I think I can out-last one human,” Spike said, cupping his rapidly-filling cock.  
  
Wesley slapped his hand away and opened the desk drawer under Spike to get out a small bottle of lube. Spike obligingly held his legs, feet seeking out a good resting place on the hard wooden edge of the desk while Wesley carefully prepped him. He lubed generously, just teasing and playing with the pucker a bit, then got one finger in and wriggled it.  
  
Spike huffed a sigh, staring at the ceiling. “C’mon, Wes. I’m not going to break.”  
  
“Do be quiet. I would hate to make this too easy on you by tearing my way in.”  
  
Spike shifted his hips as Wes fucked him with two lubed fingers. “Didn’t bother you last time.”  
  
“Yes, and this isn’t bothering you, either,” Wes flicked Spike’s cock, which was waving like a happy flagpole, precome glistening at the tip.  
  
Wesley only opened his flies and pushed his boxers down, leaving himself fully clothed as he sunk deep into Spike, pausing once fully seated and giving a delicious little extra press that Spike always enjoyed before pulling nearly all the way out and inserting again, deliciously slow, again with the extra firm push at the end, like a punctuation.  
  
Spike could feel the warmth spreading through him, building up slowly like a fire from coals while Wes gradually increased the speed and force of his thrusts. Before long he was panting, gripping the edge of the desk, pushing himself back to meet each jab. His cock burned with need, need for friction, for touch… but he knew better than to even try for that. He watched the pink head slapping against his belly, the tip drooling, leaving glistening strings every time it lifted. He could imagine a touch, a lick, anything… the slit gaped at him, a hungry little mouth.  
  
Wesley’s hand suddenly grasped him, slipping up and over the crown with one firm tug.  
  
Spike’s toes curled, his back arched, and he realized just a second before it was too late that he wasn’t supposed to come. He bit through his lower lip and howled.  
  
“Problem?” Wes asked, calm and smooth like he wasn’t currently fucking Spike hard and fast.  
  
Spike felt like a balloon about to burst, like he’d just crawled up through his own guts to grasp a slippery cliff-edge. Wesley was now playing with his cock, just lightly, so very maddeningly lightly.  
  
Spike panted and gasped. “Aren’t… gah!... you going to give me s-something to help?”  
  
“You shouldn’t need anything, if you have self-control.”  
  
Spike let go of the desk with one hand, trying to surreptitiously grab for his balls, but Wesley saw it coming a mile away and slammed his wrist hard into the wood. “You will have no cock strap, no toys, no grabbing, no physical aid whatsoever,” he said, punctuating each word with a hard thrust. “Or are you not capable of the simplest task? All you have to do is nothing. Aren’t you good at that?”  
  
Spike was beyond the ability to listen. All he knew was that his body was fit to burst, pleasure thrumming through him like vibrations in a drum head. Wesley’s rough palm was doing brain-destroying things to his cock, and his dick was forcing all coherent thought from him.  
  
“Please, Wes. Please. Please!”  
  
“Please what?”  
  
“Make me come!”  
  
Wes tutted. “You’ve hardly been tested. But keep begging by all means.” He gave Spike’s dick a practiced twist and returned his hands to holding onto Spike’s hips so he could leverage hard, fast thrusts.  
  
Spike thrashed, biting his tongue hard to try and block the pleasure with pain, but that only filed his mouth with blood. (Being a vampire could be bloody inconvenient sometimes.) He tried to think of unsexy things. Angel singing. Xander talking. Clem on the stairmaster, flapping like a million plucked, raw chicken wings…  
  
Spike was sweating all over, teeth clenched, he felt like he was trying to hold a very heavy, slippery weight. And then, Wesley’s hips stuttered, the constant battering halted. Feeling Wes come, Spike let go and fell blissfully into orgasm, his untouched cock spurting all over his chest.  
  
Wes fell over him, for a moment uncaring that his shirt was getting soaked with sweat and vampire jizz. Spike blinked stars away from his vision, feeling like he’d had his brain removed and wasn’t terribly sad about it.  
  
Then Wes got up on one elbow and jabbed Spike in the sternum, pushing cooling come around. “I didn’t tell you to come.”  
  
Spike blinked sleepily. “Wot?”  
  
The jab got harder. “Clearly, you’ve failed.”  
  
“But… fuck, Wes! We were done.”  
  
“Oh, did you assume that?”  
  
“You got yours!”  
  
“And do you think you deserve to come every time we fuck?”  
  
“I…”  
  
“No, I’m sorry, but this won’t do.” Wes stood up, and noticing the state of his shirt, sighed and started unbuttoning it. “We’ll have to start from the beginning. A week, at least, before you can be allowed to come again.”  
  
“Fuuuuck, Wes!!”  
  
“If you beg very very prettily, I may let you have a cock-cage, but don’t get used to such crutches.”  
  
Spike looked up at Wes’s frowning, thoughtful face, and groaned, because he knew he was going to beg.  
  
END


End file.
